Revved Up Soul: A MC Romance

by Lorde, Liz K.

  Jasmine finally summoned the strength to meekly get up from her bench. There was no easy way to say this, nothing could prepare you for it. He looks truly lost.

  Taking another set of tentative steps, Luke kept looking between Jasmine and the room. Clear lines slowly ran down his flushed face and his hand was shaking over his mouth.

  “We did everything we could,” Jasmine’s throat tightened and her chest felt empty, yet painfully skewered all the same.

  “No,” the tears glinted in his eyes. “No, no-no-no,” he sank to his knees beneath an impossible weight. Luke took in a sharp breath and leaned back against the wall, burying himself within his chest and arms. The sounds that left him made her bones ice over, and for one brief – horrible moment – she was right there with him, the nightly air caressing her coolly and the brightest star fading into black. She swore that she could hear the sounds of the waves crashing.

  Jasmine stepped forward, approaching the man carefully.

  Luke slammed his balled fist against the wall behind him, shouting in the throes of anger. “No!” He wiped his eyes. “No you stay— you stay away from me,” he sounded sickened. Disgusted. Like Jasmine were a pox that might spread if it got too close.

  Sadness cloaked around her person, drenching deep her bones. Heat trilled up her spine, blooming in the back of her head.

  I’m sorry. I tried to save him … she retreated two solemn steps, swallowing and averting her gaze from the man.

  Luke glared, “Don’t fucking come near me,” he growled, moving up close to her and jabbing a finger at her face. “This is on you,” he spat with a venom and turned, walking with quick, powerful strokes like a lion on the savannah.

  Jasmine’s head hung low as she watched him, out of the corner of her eye, go towards what remained of his brother.

  I’ll never see him again, she thought. And I don’t deserve to.

  CHAPTER FIVE

  Luke

  Fifteen shots and he was already on his eighth, one for each day after. Silver tequila never was his game, but it was Able’s whenever he was socializing. Luke brought the glass to his lips and tilted it back, slamming the shot down onto the bar and shaking his head. Alex, Benny and Sexton were down at the end of the bar, laughing and hollering between one another. Luke idly fingered the second half of the family rings, which was attached now to a silver chain around his neck. It was the last memento that they had from Dad, when brought together the bronze rings would spell out ‘brother’.

  Kayla wrapped an arm around the back of Luke’s neck. Considerable care had to be taken when drunk around her, lest he tell her how he really felt. He made a poor attempt to shrug her arm off, just her touch was enough to make him want to do another shot – of course it wasn’t always this way with her. Some days were good, hell some were really good.

  But most of them were just a headache. Green orbs with black slits swam into Luke’s mind’s eye as he shut tight his lids. “You’re killin’ my buzz,” Luke enunciated the words slowly to his ‘girlfriend’ – he didn’t dare to think of the woman as his old lady.

  “Don’t be so mopey, Tiger,” Kayla replied, nursing her pale ale. Like you have anything to be sad about, Luke glanced over at the woman, warmth curling against his chest in a slow simmer of anger. Your dad pays for everything, and when you’re lucid enough to realize that you’re not high, you go through my paper and make like a kite.

  Luke shrugged the woman off of his shoulder, eliciting a nasty look.

  It was then that Gabriel took a seat on the other side of him, signaling the bartender for a beer. Gabriel had medium length, rich chocolate colored hair, which cascaded to his shoulders. He turned to face Luke; his eyes like two bottomless pits they were so dark. “Nothing,” he said quietly, the man had a powerful voice but spoke very softly more often than not. It was colored with a subtle bit of country, and was typically low and slick. “Someone has to have seen something,” Luke put a hand to his forehead, the room was starting to spin at this point.

  Eyes searching, Gabriel commented, “Maybe you should slow down.”

  Kayla scoffed, “Let him do him,” she said and sipped her pale ale, tilting her head back further and further. “He’s got to get over this shit somehow.”

  Gabriel shook his head, “I don’t think so,” he replied, “this isn’t something you just get over …”

  Exhaling a long breath, Luke had to fight back at the stinging behind his eyes. Every heartbeat feels like a wrong one without you, bro.

  Finishing her beer, she sat it back down on the table. “I’m just saying,” she started, “there’s slack that needs picking up, and he’s the only who can do it.”

  Gabriel nodded appreciatively at the bartender, taking his beer and having a swig. “All I’m saying is that, that there’s nothing – nothing out there,” the man closed his eyes a moment, “Silence from Los Demonios, Earl’s clueless, Sheriff Martine has his head wayyy too far up his ass. It has to be someone right beside us, you know?” Gabriel had another drink of his beer, “too quiet to be an enemy, why make it something it’s not? Why not leave your mark if you’re trying to send a message.”

  It felt like a man had smacked him upside the head with a pillowcase full of rocks, Luke’s head pounded relentlessly. “No,” he managed, “nobody would do that. Not even Robert. Killing a Knight … there’s nothing worse.”

  Shaking his head, Gabriel brought his hands together and rested his chin on them. “I know it’s not easy to accept—“

  “No. I don’t accept that,” Luke growled, the anger rising in his chest – he could feel the seals of his self-control buckling under the pressure now. “This was underhanded shit Gabe. You know just as well as I do when we got problems, we make it clear.”

  Gabriel said nothing, his eyes drifting.

  “Someone murdered my brother, and we’re going to find them, and when we do, everyone is going to show them what it means to cross a true Knight.” Luke downed another shot before groaning and getting up from his barstool. I need to get outta here, he thought. He shook his head and muttered that he would be back, shuffling his way out of the clubhouse. He had to get away from them, from everything.

  The two lights of his life, one new and one old, were gone.

  CHAPTER SIX

  Jasmine

  The man had a scraggy white beard and sad, sleepless bags for eyes. He was practically dressed in rags, aside from his nice but well-worn sneakers – the man had taken care to wrap up his dirty gold Labrador in a great big towel, holding it to his chest.

  Jasmine stepped under the concrete awning of the restaurant, the rain picking up a bit. It was good that she brought her umbrella. She padded over to the man and sat beside him, trying to politely ignore his smell.

  The scraggy bearded man looked over to Jasmine, the dog whimpered and glanced over as well. “Hi there,” he offered, his voice sort of hollow, “whose that? Huh Jasper?” The man pet the side of the dog’s face affectionately.

  The corner of her mouth lifted, “Hey, that’s a cute dog you have there. How long have you had him?”

  “Going on four years now,” he gave Jasper’s head a soft series of pats.

  Jasmine reached over and scratched underneath the dog’s neck; it raised its chin in response, letting her fingers dance where they pleased. “Well you’re lucky to have him, he’s beautiful. How long you been on the streets, if you don’t mind me asking,” Jasmine wondered how long it might take her date to arrive. She hated being the only punctual human being in her social circles.

  “Six years now, heh, it ain’t easy … cold but it’s still beautiful out. How I like it, even when I had a home, would always sit on the stoops and listen to the rain.”

  “Yeah,” Jasmine agreed, looking out at the lazy gray sky, “there’s just something about the rain,” she inhaled, catching the wet and earthly scent.

  The homeless man nodded his head, playing with Jasper’s ear now.

  Something pricked at Jasmi
ne’s heart as the moments ticked on by, she reached into her pocket and pulled out her wallet producing two twenty dollar bills. “Here,” she said gingerly, offering the paper to the man.

  His eyes went wide with appreciation, his hand hesitating a moment to take it from her own, “Hey now that’s—you don’t need t-to do that.”

  “I don’t need to,” she said, “I want to.” Jasmine pushed her hand out further, stretching as far as her arm would allow.

  A couple of heartbeats later and the man resigned, carefully accepting the bills from her small hand. “Thanks ma’am.”

  “You’re welcome, I know what it’s like to be down on your luck,” that wasn’t entirely true, her parents had been there for her plenty, she hoped it would make him feel better about taking the money. The two continued to chat for a brief while. It had been a month since she’d seen Luke, the grey clouds looming above her made her think about what had happened – how she slipped up and it costed a man his life. He wasn’t going to make it, she knew. It had already been twenty minutes. Just leave it alone, stop beating yourself up over this … give yourself a break. But she couldn’t. It reminded her of too many things, and too many things reminded her of it.

  He’s not coming, she thought, getting up from her spot by the homeless man and stepping out into the sidewalk.

  Rain pattered softly against her yellow umbrella and a smile walked across the lines of her face when she saw Dale coming around the corner. Jasmine had only met him a couple of weeks ago when she took her Rav4 in to get looked at – the two struck a quick bond. He seems sweet, even if the bastard did keep me waiting, Jasmine thought. She moved over to meet him.

  Dale walked over to Jasmine, moving along with her underneath the protection of the concrete canopy above. It had a simplistic red covering and a decidedly fancy black font. Dale wrapped up his umbrella and looked over at Jasmine. He had simple green eyes, caring ones, and a nice oval face with surprisingly pretty white skin. For some reason Jasmine expected him to show up with oil stains, but he was anything if not clean – his beard shaved neatly and his hair parted with gel to one side.

  Jasmine gave a pretty smile, mother always said a great smile was like a great key – it would open all doors. “You look good,” she commented, “I was wondering if you had forgotten or something.”

  “Thanks sugah, you look good yerself,” he eyed her from toe to top – lingering a half-heartbeat on her chest. “Just got caught up at the shop’s all – you wannah go for ah drink after this yah think?” He gestured toward the bar across the street, a couple of motorcycles and cars parked next to it.

  Jasmine laughed. “We’ll see.”

  Dale glanced over at the homeless man and Jasper, turning back to face Jasmine, he whispered, “God that guy smells awful, get ah job right?”

  Internally cringing, Jasmine raised her brows, “Uhm, yeah, right,” what a dick thing to say; Jasmine’s hand twitched, wanting nothing more than to slap the man. Someone did not raise him right, she thought.

  Seemingly sensing the awkwardness, Dale nodded his head and led the way inside. Jasmine glimpsed a rather expensive looking golden watch around his wrist; it looked as though it could have easily gone for a grand.

  Five minutes later, they were seated at a booth secluded away from other customers. A niggling feeling pricked away at Jasmine’s mind.

  The waiter arrived then. He was dressed formally, with a sharply parted head of brown hair and a clean cut face. “Good evening, I’m Tom and I’ll be your waiter today.” He extended the menus to the two.

  Dale moved in his side of the booth, his lips parting about to speak.

  While this was happening, Jasmine gave her pretty smile, sweet as the songbird. “Hi there,” Jasmine plucked the menu from the waiter’s hands between her delicate fingers; she noticed the waiter admire her turquoise fingernails. “We’ll just need a couple of minutes, if you could get us two waters to start that would be perfect.”

  “Sure thing, I’ll get you some complimentary breadsticks while you wait.”

  Jasmine batted her lashes, noticing Dale’s bemused (possibly miffed) reaction. “Perfect.”

  The waiter left and the two were once again in only the company of each other. Dale had an absent look on his face, folding his hands against one another on the table.

  Picking up on the awkwardness, Jasmine shifted in her side of the red booth. It’s not particularly comfy, she mused. “So,” she said, “everything alright?” She smiled and gave a little laugh.

  “Oh yeah, yeah,” he spoke, scratching behind his ear. He sounds distant, almost empty.. “Just not used to ah woman bein’ so forward, I guess.”

  Well the waiter was looking at me. “Oh, I’m sorry,” she brushed back a strand of her raven hair. Jasmine’s nipples could only partially be made out, but she noticed the man looking.

  Waving a hand casually, Dale said, “Don’t worry ‘bout it. Tell me somethin’ ‘bout yerself sweetharht.”

  He’s handsome enough I guess, but maybe if he just took better care of himself and worked out more, “Oh, well I don’t have much to tell really,” Jasmine confessed. Sharing is always so hard when you keep yourself locked away. Her eyes fell back on the man’s tattoo that was peeking out – though she could only see a part of it, it looked like a dark, interlocked loop of some sort.

  “Nonsense, how’d yah get in the medical field?” Dale looked over his shoulder at their waiter approaching with bread and water.

  Jasmine politely waited for the man to leave first. She plucked a long, thin piece of golden crusted bread in her delicate hand. Bringing it to her mouth, she could smell the lovely aroma of butter, and the garlic sent a needful pang straight to her stomach – she could feel herself salivating at the anticipation of her first bite. Nibbling on it daintily, her bones were flooded with warmth and ecstasy bloomed against the back of her head. God that’s good.

  The tiniest of moans escaped Jasmine before she placed the already half gone breadstick down. I just want them to reproduce so I can eat all their garlic butter bread babies, man this guy would freak out if he could hear my internal monologue. That would suck. “Well,” she started, “I guess it just always called to me really, it was my Dad’s suggestion that I work in the ER.” Not true.

  Jasmine idly examined her menu; Dad never wanted me to do that. She thought back, briefly, on that disappointment she had given her father, but forced it from her mind, not wanting to linger.

  Dale ate away at the bread with an impressive gusto. The man clearly likes his food. There was something in his eyes though, but what was it? “Cool,” he grunted between bites, his eyes landing on Jasmine’s breasts.

  Heat curled against her chest, unsure as to whether she should be repulsed by his constant staring or simply enjoy it. “Why the interest in fixing cars? I mean, aside from being a guy,” I guess all men are basically the same thing. All they appreciate are tits, cars and rock – not specifically in that order. Although there was that one dude who drank exclusively appletini’s.

  Dale chugged down his glass of water, beads of condensation forming on the outer rim and rolling down to its bottom; ice clinked against his teeth before he pounded it down onto the table. He wiped his mouth, “Mostly fix bikes,” he said, “I mean cars too yeah, but Steel Knights’r always comin’ in and havin’ me fix somethin’.”

  Her heart shot up into her throat and rooted itself there – Jasmine had never felt so flushed in her life. Does he know Luke? “That’s interesting,” she replied, “do you know any of them? The bikers, that is.”

  The waiter was walking back to them now.

  Nodding his head, Dale said, “Yeah ah couple.”

  “Who?” Don’t say it.

  “What’s it matter to yah?” Dale’s eyes narrowed inquisitively, leaning forward slightly against the hardwood table; which was black and wonderfully lacquered.

  Heat spiraled in all directions from her chest, like her skin was fire made living. Leave it alone.
“Just curious,” she shrugged, keeping as plain a face as possible – looking away from the man and over to the waiter. Maybe that will throw him off.

  The waiter arrived and greeted the two once more, pouring full their glasses of water. Jasmine ordered a dish of Pasta con Broccoli and suggested to Dale the Cannelloni. He seemed dour about it, but took her advice regardless. The waiter left and the two sat in silence for a brief moment.

  Dale played idly with his glass of water, turning it on the table. “John, Luke and Matthew – they’re in the most I guess.”

  Jasmine’s heart tapped faster and faster still.

  “Only reason I even suggest we go to this place is cuz of ‘em,” Dale rested an elbow on the table. “Like to hang out at the bah ‘cross the way.”

  Every breath felt heavier than the last and a pang of sorrow stabbed against her. There was so much blood that day.

  After some time the food finally arrived and the two ate in relative silence, only bringing themselves away from their dishes for moments at a time to fill the awkward quiet.

  Jasmine gingerly sipped her water, placing it down on the table and clearing her throat. “I’ll be right back,” she announced, a smile on her face.

  It was good to have a man’s company, she wasn’t sure of him, especially after the way he treated that man at the front. But she knew he had some level of interest in her, or at least her body. After what had happened with Luke, even though she wasn’t sure what she wanted – Jasmine felt like she had to do something just to deal. “Try to behave yourself while I’m gone,” she joked, picking up her purse.

  Dale’s lips curled into a half-hearted smile and he chuckled dryly. “No promises.”

  After finding her way to the bathroom and taking care of herself, Jasmine admired her figure in the mirror. She was wearing a black dress that had V straps which wrapped around her shoulders, revealing a circle that exposed her sun-burnished bust in magnificent fashion. She tousled her raven hair, looking back into her dull green eyes.